I love my glasses. Because I have old lady eyeballs, I have three different types of focus in my glasses, and nice round lenses to allow for all the different ways to see things. These glasses prove I am old, but at least I can see.
Those big lenses get in the way if the day delivers extra reason to smile, and today was one of those days. It was a cheeks on my glasses kind of day.
For the past month Young Life has been meeting in our family room on Monday evenings. The first week, I hung out a few rooms away, by the front door, where I marveled over the collection of shoes littering our entryway. It was impressive enough to photograph each week.
Tonight it was standing room only in our family room as the leader delivered the message. More like flop on the floor and lean on each other once all the chairs, kitchen stools, game table stools and ottomans were covered. About thirty kids came, seeking connection, answers, comfort. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, one of the students at the high school unexpectedly passed away. None of my family knew this boy personally, so the grief is a step removed from us. You could’ve heard a pin drop last night when the leader spoke. To see high school kids connecting, leaning on one another and turning to God in their hurt and with their questions fills this mama’s heart and pushes her cheeks right up to the rims of her glasses.
Tension rises between the joy and the grief, but the existence of one proves the existence of the other. As much as we might like to compartmentalize our feelings, life is messy. Alongside my joy, my prayers continue for the family who lost a son, for the friends and teammates of this boy gone too soon. Comfort comes from knowing God will exchange our grief for His joy.
The holidays evoke all sorts of emotions. We grapple with loss and grief during a time when society says we should be holly jolly. It is my prayer this Christmas that those who are hurting will turn to the One who can provide true comfort, that a focus on what’s to come can help reduce the anguish we feel in the present, and that we might each have reason to smile all the way to our eyeglasses, even in the midst of our pain.